Saturday, October 30, 2010

COMFORT OF HOME

COMFORT OF HOME

By the fireside we will eye each other again like the first time
And sit engulfed in our coffee and our private dreams.

And it won’t seem like a lifetime of touching and embracing,

Only like the comfort of home on a cold night in the city
With a well acquainted stranger.

You make it seem so easy, when the times are hard and wild.
You shelter me with your loving arms
Like a parent protects a frightened child.

After a day of the world and its nonsense,
We lie by the fire and breathe in the scent
Of the potpourri in the hall, sweet as peppermint.

No matter what stones the world has thrown,
I know I have you and the comforts of home.
The pillows, the music, the glow of the TV
All bring a sweet reassurance to me.

And all the miracles of this life are mine,
The blessings like light in the darkness they shine,
The loaves and the fishes, the water to wine.

By the bedside, we will eye each other again like the first time,
That still same glimmer and spark in our eyes.

And it won’t seem like a lifetime of the feel of your flesh.

Only like the comfort of home on a warm night in the country
With a well acquainted lover.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, October 23, 2010

EYES AS BLUE AS CHINA

EYES AS BLUE AS CHINA

My love has eyes as blue as china,
No one on this earth is finer.
His steps are brave and do not falter,
And in my eyes he walks on water.

He is the stuff of which legends are made,
Though the storms of life gather and leave me afraid.
He’s the shoulder I lean on, my staff and my prayer,
His gaze escapes nothing, I know that he cares.

If the carpet is stained, he is there to remove it.
He’s a friend of Woolite, owns stock in Renuzit.
He’s a whiz with a vacuum, cleans house like a wizard,
A flurry of action that mimics a blizzard.

My love has lips that rival his eyes,
Supreme in their softness, they tease and tantalize.
Over the moon I blindly go.
Following his light and shadow.

My love has curves ripe to explore,
They tease and leave me wanting more.
His touch my private gold mine,
His fingers are a stitch in time.
The fount from whom my blessings flow,
He is my world and all I know.

My love has eyes as blue as china,
Deep as the deepest ocean.
Eyes that recklessly I dive into,
Drowning in a sweet, slow motion.

My love has eyes like the deep blue sea,
In a rush of passion they cover me.
Like a blanket of stars on a cold winter’s night,
They leave me blinded by their light.

My lover’s eyes are blue as china,
No one on this earth is finer,
And I’d follow him like a lamb to slaughter,
For in my eyes he walks on water.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, October 16, 2010

DRUMBEAT OF THE SAINTS

DRUMBEAT OF THE SAINTS

I swore I heard the rumblings, nothing less than quaint,
This morning when I first arose to apply my rouge and greasepaint.

I swore I saw a chariot go streaking forth the skies.
I swore I saw the face of God with these two doubting eyes.

I swore I heard the tribal rhythms, drums and cymbals crashing,
The thunder of that long black train with all its lights gone flashing.

I swore I saw the funeral pyre, the friends and neighbors mourning,
As straight into the sunset bold, my soul it went a’soaring.

I swore I saw renting of garments, I swore I heard gnashing of teeth,
As my body lay an empty shell upon soft but sterile sheets.

I swore I rose above it all, lost in space and dangling,
And from my perch above it all, I gained new understanding.

And there was nothing else to ponder, nowhere left to run,
My work beneath the earth’s big sun, at long last had been done.

I had been a gambler and a huckster all my life,
But I found a peace of heaven in my true love’s deep blue eyes.

I swore I heard the rumblings that echoed far and wide,
Across the golden valley and the peaceful mountainside.

I drank it in, embraced it all, and knew it all was good,
And came at last to stand steadfast where all the angels stood.

I swore I heard the rumblings, they were nothing less than quaint,
The still and sacred pulsing of the drumbeat of the saints.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, October 2, 2010

ALL I GET

ALL I GET

All I get is lonely, all I get is blue streaks,
All I get are melancholy days and wasted weeks.

All I get is shaking, all I get is stiff.
All I get is meaningless, all I get is what if’s.

All I get is crocodile tears, all I get is posturing.
All I get for all my years is snot from lying nostrils.

All I get is limping, all I get is worn,
All I do is merely pimping, all I get is more forlorn.

All I get is silence, indifference from the gods,
They think I am a hindrance, they think that I am odd.

All I get is wilted flowers in a desolate bouquet.
They weep their tendrils on my bosom, then die and fade away.

All I get is anger, all I get is bottled rage,
A lonely actor doomed to fret his life out on the stage.

All I get is battered suns and dingy desperate moons,
A life that’s dipped in arsenic and slips away too soon.

All I get is postcards from someone else’s stay,
A stink bug for a house pet, a lost and lonely stray.

All I get is why I can’t and never why I can,
All I get is separateness, estrangement from my fellow man.

All I get’s a lot of nothing, foul excuses, how they reek.
All I get are empty words, nonsense songs and doublespeak.

All I get is lonely, all I get is blue streaks,
All I get are melancholy days and wasted weeks.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT The stars in your eyes, love, I tried them on for size. They shone as bright as diamonds, how they mesmerized. And when...